Sullen
by Laura Beth
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle Harry is looking for some comfort but no one really understands what he's been through, except for the greasy potions master. AU where Snape lives. Warning for corporal punishment.


Sullen, moody, withdrawn. Words that are used to describe many a boy as he progresses painfully through adolescence. Seventeen is a difficult age. Still too immature to be called a man, yet too old to be truly a boy. As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall had taught teenagers long enough to recognise the warning signs and experienced enough insolence to know when to talk understandingly to the miscreant, and when to bring the discipline of the school crashing down upon the head of the troubled and troublesome student. But in this case, it was not so clear what the best course of action should be.

The stern witch readjusted her reading glasses and pulled her chair closer under her desk. It had gone midnight, but she was still in her office, marking scrolls and brooding on the Potter boy. The room was silent except for the scritching of quill on parchment and the muffled tock of an elderly clock on the mantelpiece. It chimed the quarter hour and Minerva sighed and decided that she could find nothing praiseworthy in the essay before her. With a heavy heart she reached for the red ink and inscribed _D – a disappointing effort, Mr Potter_ across the work. Summoning her wand, she conjured a fresh cup of tea and sipped the hot, milky drink slowly as she considered the situation.

Harry Potter was already carrying the weight of too many expectations on his thin shoulders. The unfortunate events he had undergone in his life seemed so many and so very cruel; the boy was surely ready to crack at any moment. He had lost his home and his family while a baby and had been raised by neglectful Muggles. Since being accepted at Hogwarts he had been involved in several very close calls on his life. The final attempt by The Dark Lord to abduct and kill him had culminated in Harry duelling and quite unexpectedly defeating Voldemort but this had only seemed to plunge the boy further into despair.

Minerva frowned again at the large leather bound book in front of her. She traced down the page of carefully printed names and then across the row of letters, shaking her head sadly as she added another D to the row bearing Harry's name. His marks had dipped to such a low that it seemed, halfway through the first term that he would be the one of the few Hogwarts students ever to fail to matriculate. He was performing poorly in every class, with no exceptions, not even Defence against the Dark Arts or Care Of Magical Creatures could hold his interest lately.

Some of the Professors were walking on eggshells around Harry, ignoring his rudeness and his inattention, excusing his shoddy work and lack of effort and making excuses for him when he offered none himself. Remus Lupin, once again the Defence against the Dark Arts Professor, was pulling increasingly more elaborate stunts to spark the boy's interest with little success. Minerva had watched with increasing impatience as every kindness was thrown back and every punishment she imposed slid meaninglessly by him. Nothing seemed to snap him out of his mood and she despaired of ever seeing the bright and friendly boy that he had once been.

Wearily, Minerva decided that something would have to be done and made up her mind to call a staff meeting the following evening. Summoning a fresh quill and parchment, she wrote a notice inviting all the Professors to attend.

A magical fire burned merrily in the hearth in Dumbledore's office, illuminating the low table set with tea things and a selection of cakes. The teaching staff were gathered around on a selection of sofas and easy chairs, which had been pulled into a rough circle. As they chattered quietly amongst themselves even Professor Snape condescended to add a few words on the season's Quidditch matches so far.

"Thank you all for attending so promptly this evening. As you know, I am very concerned about our Mr Potter," Minerva began in a serious tone as she opened the meeting. "He seems so unlike himself, and nothing I say is reaching him. He doesn't want to talk about the business with You-know-who. His marks are the lowest they have ever been. He's just not trying in any lessons."

A chorus of agreement met her words. Professor Sinistra chimed in, "He's one of the rudest boys I've ever taught. He refuses to listen to anything I say, and he had the nerve to tell me that he would copy his friend's homework."

That broke the dam, and a litany of complaints about the Boy Who Lived poured out. Obviously everyone was as frustrated by his poor effort and his sudden lack of respect for the staff.

"I even told him that his father would be ashamed of his behaviour," Madam Trelawney said, who had been called a 'bug-eyed fake' by the boy. Professor Snape could be heard to swallow a bark of laughter at this insult, but he resumed his poker face quickly and leaned forward for the first time to take part in the discussion.

"How discourteous of our little Gryffindor hero! If it was anybody else, you would have them scrubbing out the Quidditch showers with a nail brush, Minerva." He sneered at the implied favouritism he saw the boy receive. As much as she tried not to let the man get to her, Minerva could feel her hackles rising and she could not prevent the slight tremor of anger in her voice as she replied.

"The boy has spent weeks in detention, Severus! He has been cut from the Quidditch team for match after match, as you surely know! It just doesn't seem to matter to him any more. If he loses points, or gets extra homework he just accepts it as further proof that the world is out to get him. It's so unlike him. It's heartbreaking."

Snape snorted audibly at this sentiment. Albus had been very quiet up until this point, drinking his tea and allowing Minerva, as the boy's Head of House, to lead the meeting but at this he looked up thoughtfully. "Perhaps you have some suggestions, Severus. You do deal with our most difficult young men, after all."

"Indeed I do, Albus," Snape said, "he certainly needs to lose this immature idea that the world is in any way concerned with him beyond this fleeting moment of celebrity. His head is full of that sort of nonsense, someone should knock it out of him, and quickly, before we have another Lockhart on our hands."

Minerva snorted with disgust at that comment. "That is the last thing he needs, Severus Snape! Kindly keep those suggestions to yourself!"

"Now, now, Minerva," Albus interrupted her with that twinkle that she had come to distrust so much, "Let's not have you two squabbling as well. I think Severus knows enough about moody adolescent boys. After all, he spent some time here as one himself." Snape stiffened at this teasing but he could hardly deny it. The staff all knew what a monster he had been in his final year.

"We are not here to discuss _my_ behaviour, Headmaster," Snape said over a chorus of muffled snickers from the older staff members.

"No, no, of course not, my dear boy," Dumbledore continued, "but I think that perhaps you are the best person to deal with Harry. Treat him as you would any of your Slytherins."

"Albus! The boy is a Gryffindor!" Minerva snarled, forgetting herself totally with the shock of having the boy turned over to his most feared teacher to be disciplined. "I don't think that punishment is the answer here. I was hoping that we would find some appropriate strategies to help Harry."

"Don't worry so, Minerva," Snape stood up briskly and prepared to leave, "I will speak to him tomorrow before school. If anyone has any further problems with him during class, I suggest that he is sent immediately to the dungeons with a note explaining his infraction of the rules. He will learn that he cannot get away with this insolent behaviour any more."

The other staff escaped as the furious witch rounded on Albus.

"Albus! How dare you imply that Gryffindor has failed Harry," Minerva snapped, forgetting herself with the shock of having the boy turned over to his most detested teacher to be disciplined. "I was hoping that we would find some appropriate strategies to help Harry. I don't think that punishment is the answer here. And to send him to Severus! Harry will feel betrayed by this."

"Minerva, calm yourself." Albus soothed. "Severus has always done a very good job with the Slytherin boys, and he will do all he can to help Harry, I'm sure."

There was no point arguing further once Albus had made up his mind, so she bade him a curt goodnight and stalked from the room, her robes swirling in a fair approximation of the Potion master's.

The next morning came round all too quickly. Snape was marking essays in his office when there was a firm knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Harry sauntered in, his shirt deliberately untucked and his tie only loosely knotted.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he began in an indifferent tone.

Snape ignored him for a moment as he finished scrawling a comment on the inadequacies of the essay that occupied his attention. Harry slouched in front of the table and began to deliberately kick at the floor in a show of boredom.

"Stop that, Potter," Snape spoke in his usual controlled way, a smooth delivery with an undertone of menace, which for Harry was backed up by the assumption that the man had done unspeakable things in his past.

Harry shivered a little and found to his surprise that he had obeyed unthinkingly. He studied his teacher closely as he waited for the man to turn his attention away from the parchment.

He had been less than thrilled when Professor Dumbledore had told him that he had an appointment before breakfast to see Snape to discuss his slipping marks and his insolence. He had tried to protest that he wasn't a Slytherin and that he should really be sent to Professor McGonagall but the Headmaster had merely patted his shoulder benevolently and murmured that he thought Professor Snape would be more understanding. Harry had had to fake a choking fit to keep from laughing in the elderly wizard's face at that sentiment.

Realising that Snape was merely keeping him waiting for his own entertainment, Harry felt what little patience he had disappear and he heard himself snarl, "If this isn't convenient for you, _sir_, I can come back when you have time to talk to me!"

Snape's head snapped up and his dark gaze effectively pinned Harry to the spot.

"Oh, we have all the time that we need, Potter. Don't think you are leaving here until I dismiss you," he warned; the merest hint of steel beginning to thread through the silkiness of his voice.

Harry wondered if he had finally gone too far in his teacher baiting. He forced himself to stand still and wait until Snape finally stopped writing and leaned back in his chair to study Harry carefully for a long moment. Harry squirmed under the intense scrutiny and he was almost relieved when the man spoke again.

"I have heard a long litany of complaints about your attitude towards your teachers and your work, Potter. So I have to ask myself, what am I to do with you?"

Harry shrugged. "You can yell all you like, I've had worse from my Uncle Vernon. Or you can set me to work cleaning, but that's what I do during my summer holiday," a note of bitterness crept into his voice at this, "or maybe you could waste my time with yet another boring essay on some useless bit of magic, but no… that's what being at this school is always like, so it really won't make any difference. There's nothing you can do to punish me, Snape, and you know it!"

Snape appeared to ponder his defiant words for a moment before his eyes glinted unpleasantly, "Are you quite certain that you have discounted every possibility I have at my disposal for dealing with troublesome boys?" he asked.

Harry thought for a moment, "Well, you certainly aren't going to try talking to me about my feelings. Professor McGonagall has already tried that and failed miserably. Besides, it's not your style."

Harry could hear a trace of amusement in his teacher's voice as he replied, "think, boy. What else is there? What have you missed that would be more 'my style?'"

His thin lips quirked a little with satisfaction as Harry eventually reached the only logical conclusion and dismissed it out of hand.

"I suppose you'd like to beat me, sir," he said. "What a pity it was made illegal years ago."

But it was his teacher's turn to smirk and he did it rather more evilly than any Gryffindor could ever hope to emulate.

"Really? One might almost think that it was true, you stated that with such certainty."

Harry blinked behind his glasses in consternation. "But it _is _illegal, sir. No-one gets beaten any more."

"No Gryffindors have been punished that way since Professor McGonagall took over the House, certainly. And I'm sure that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would never do anything to deserve a caning, but our older families have more traditional views on discipline and some of my Slytherins require a very firm hand to keep them in line. In actuality, the Headmaster has never officially withdrawn the punishment from the school discipline code."

"Um," for the first time in months, Harry found himself without a ready retort. "So you're telling me that you really do want to beat me?"

"It is nothing to do with what I want." Snape said. "I am willing to treat you as a Slytherin in order to help you, boy. If a more immediate punishment will help you to keep to letter of the school rules, if not the spirit of them, then I am willing to accommodate you."

"So you are saying that it's my choice?" Harry wasn't sure whether the older man was conducting some cruel hoax. He couldn't think why he would ever agree to that method of punishment. He had been relieved when his Aunt and Uncle had believed that his godfather was an escaped lunatic and murderer and had stopped cuffing him for his misdemeanours.

But the Slytherin was speaking again. Harry forced his attention back to the dark man in front of him.

"Of course it is your choice. I wish to help you, not add to your woes."

"Help me?" Harry sounded doubtful. "How on Earth could _that_ help me?"

Snape smiled wolfishly at Harry as he turned the thought over in his mind. Harry could see the challenge in the older man's eyes. Whatever he decided, he realised that he had been outmanoeuvred. If he refused Snape would have found a punishment that he feared. And worst of all he would feel that he had shown weakness to the man. Harry swallowed hard, silently damned his Gryffindor bravery and tried to keep his voice steady as he answered.

"Very well, then. What happens now?"

Snape rose from his seat and Harry started apprehensively as the man stalked around his desk and opened a drawer in a cabinet. He fished around inside for a moment and retrieved a school cane. Harry gritted his teeth and tried to keep his breathing even.

"Take off your robes, Potter. Then drop your trousers and bend over. Hold onto the desk and don't move until I say you may."

"Yes, sir." Harry muttered, complying reluctantly.

He felt faintly ridiculous, undoing his belt and allowing his trousers to slide down below his knees. He half-expected Snape to laugh at his gullibility, but the man waited silently until he was bent over the desk before he brought the cane down with a firm 'thwack' on the desk next to the boy. Harry jumped with alarm but remained bent over. Only his mulish Gryffindor pride kept him pinned in place.

"Tradition dictates that I say that this will hurt me more than it will you, Potter," Snape said sternly. "As you no doubt expect, that is a blatant falsehood.

I intend that this will hurt you and that it will teach you a lesson. You will remember that whatever else you may be, here at Hogwarts you are only a schoolboy and should behave as such. I expect nothing more from you, and nothing less. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Harry agreed, wondering how long Snape would keep him in this humiliating position, and whether it was part of the punishment.

Snape leaned over and spoke directly into Harry's ear; his deep voice radiated his approval of Harry's submission. "Very good, Potter. Very obedient. Now drop your drawers."

Harry had never before been in such close proximity to his teacher, and he swallowed hard as the man's magical aura crackled against his. Gods! The man was _powerful_. Traitorously, Harry's teenage hormones reacted to the stimulus as he fumbled to obey the command. He attempted to yank his boxers down without catching his erection. He hoped desperately that his overly long school shirt would hide his embarrassment.

Snape showed no sign of having noticed anything untoward. Harry felt a stir of cool air as his teacher moved into a better position and then yelped in outraged pain as the cane landed without warning on his arse, drawing a sizzling line of fire.

"You are merely another disobedient schoolboy who will learn his lesson," Snape said in his smoky baritone as Harry gasped and blinked tears from his eyes.

Another smack and Harry managed not to make a sound this time. Fortunately, Snape didn't seem to require Harry to answer each statement that punctuated the falling of the cane.

"You will show a polite interest in your studies," Snape continued as another painful blow fell.

Harry pressed his hot cheek against the table and concentrated on his teacher's voice to distract himself from the position he was in. He was excruciatingly aware of Snape's heavy gaze on his bare backside and the effect that this was having on him was utterly humiliating.

"You will be courteous to all your teachers and you will apologise for your rudeness."

Another blow, catching him across the first stinging stripe made him hiss with mingled pain and excitement and his cock throbbed treacherously. Harry desperately willed his orgasm away, but was fighting a losing battle.

"You will catch up on all your outstanding assignments and you will not be allowed into Hogsmeade until you have made a sufficient improvement in your classes."

As Snape's final and heaviest blow landed Harry gave a low groan. His disobedient cock spasmed with its release. He hoped that Snape would interpret this as dismay at losing his Hogsmeade privileges and not that he was getting off on the total submission the older wizard had forced him into.

"You will remember that you are not a 'hero' to me. You are not remarkable in any way, Potter. If you do not do as you are told, I will punish you again. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, eyes heavy with unshed tears. His knees trembled and he could feel the semen cooling and sliding down his stomach. He wished desperately that Snape would give him permission to leave, but the man seemed keen to prolong his humiliation.

"So, Mr Potter. I hope that you have learned some manners this morning, and that I will not see you back here too quickly. Be aware that your teachers will send you straight back to me if they do not see an immediate improvement in your attitude."

"Yes, sir," Harry choked.

"Adjust your dress and get out."

Harry was relieved that the man turned away while he pulled up his boxers and wiped away the sticky evidence of his capitulation.

It was a somewhat chastened Harry that walked stiffly into breakfast and cautiously eased himself into the space between Ron and Hermione.

"Alright, mate?" Ron asked. "You don't look too great. What did Snape say?"

Harry sighed miserably and poked a spoon at his cereal before replying. "I'm on report. I have to write letters of apology to Madam Trelawney and Professor Sinistra. I have to catch up in all my classes and I'm not allowed to Hogsmeade until there's an improvement in my work."

"Oh, mate." Ron shook his head in commiseration. "That's tough."

"Well, that's quite reasonable, actually, Harry." Hermione turned slightly to join in the conversation. "I have been trying to tell you that you would get into trouble if you didn't start to work. At least you're not stuck in detention for another month."

"No," Harry agreed shortly. "I didn't get detention."

He had no intention of telling her what he did get instead. He had the horrible feeling that she would approve. He tried to choke down his soggy cornflakes to give him the energy to get through the morning.

Strangely, though, Harry was beginning to feel a lot better than he had in a long time. He went over Snape's words again, trying to puzzle out what, exactly, had managed to calm the storm of emotions that had been threatening to overwhelm him since he had returned to Hogwarts clutching the corpse of his enemy.

Since that day nothing had seemed real; rules, lessons, essays, all seemed part of a previous existence that nothing to do with the Harry Potter that had summoned up every ounce of hate and fury in his soul and flung it towards Voldemort. The Avada Kedavra curse had struck the Dark wizard with the full force of Harry's loathing and he had crumpled like a rag-doll.

Harry had returned to a hero's welcome. The Ministry had heaped honours on him and every witch or wizard in the country had wanted to shake his hand. Harry had attended the official functions mechanically. A nasty little voice in his head kept whispering to him, "_murderer. Dark Wizard. You're just like Him. You'll turn. The Dark will swallow you up too, Harry Potter."_

But this morning, Professor Snape hadn't treated him like a hero or a future Dark Lord. He had treated Harry like a naughty boy, not the saviour of the wizarding world. He hadn't been malicious, either. He hadn't gloated over Harry's fall from grace or taunted him about his recent troubles, instead he had issued a stern rebuke and given some clear boundaries for Harry's behaviour.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench and pondered the punishment he had received. It had been painful and humiliating, true, but somehow it had released a part of himself that had been frozen.

He sighed and replayed the scene over again in his mind. In his daydream, Snape noticed Harry's straining erection and hissed, "still defying me, Potter? I've broken stronger men than you before. Get down on your knees and suck me like the little tramp you are." Harry stole a sly glance at the staff table as he imagined himself obediently dropping to kneel at the man's feet, skilfully unbuttoning his teacher's fly and taking the man's cock into his mouth. Professor Snape was glaring around the room, apparently unmoved by the events of the morning. His cold gaze fell on Harry, who promptly shivered with the menace the man could project. Imaginary Snape seized Harry's head and fucked his mouth brutally, wearing the cold sneer the real man was bestowing on Harry. Snape didn't look away and Harry found that he was still staring at the man. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Snape's lip curled with what could have been amusement. Harry blushed hotly and dropped his gaze back to his bowl. He was almost prepared to swear that he had seen an answering hunger in his teacher's eyes.

"Harry!" Ron's voice intruded jarringly into his fantasy, "Harry! Get your bag. We need to get a move on if we're going to get up to Trelawney's room on time."

Harry grinned up at his lanky friend as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder; the term still had another five weeks, plenty of time for Harry to earn himself another punishment or two.


End file.
